


Family Reunion

by Fumm95



Series: Morning Glory (Jace Malcom & Satele Shan) [21]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, KotFE chapter 12 spoilers, Mother-Son Relationship, Satele Shan Critical, Shan family feels, kind of, minor Jace/Satele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kryn and Theron give Satele a piece of their minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erunamiryene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erunamiryene/gifts).



> Some explanation is probably required for this one. This takes place in some mix between erunamiryene‘s AU where Kryn is the Outlander and my fix-it headcanon where Jace goes to find Satele again, only during chapter 12 instead of after.
> 
> It was also originally inspired by some form of RP-ing, along with the fact that Kryn is forever exasperated by the Shan family’s inability to actually communicate with one another. All of the Shan family feels (mostly Theron and Satele), as well as some probably deserved Satele Shan critical content (then again, it’s me so you know I can’t be too angry with her ever).
> 
> Thank you to erunamiryene for the idea and feels.

Theron was not entirely sure what he was expecting when Kryn came tearing into the Alliance headquarters after days of being missing, looking happier, more herself, than anyone had seen in a long time—perhaps since Zakuul had first invaded and Marr was slain. Whatever it was, it was not for her to grab him in a surprisingly vice-like grip, a hint of a familiar scowl on her face, and drag him through the cantina and into the Odessen wilderness, muttering all the while about stubbornness and the stupidity of the Jedi Code.

She pointedly ignored his stammered questions, only pausing to glare at him with a ferocity that did not seem to be addressed directly at him and growl a short “You’ll see.”

Still, he was glad she still held him by the wrist, if only because it forced him forward when his feet threatened to stop at the ship parked in the middle of a small clearing, a good ways away from the base. A very familiar _Jedi_ ship.

“Kryn, should we really—?”

But she paid him no mind, nearly pulling him over when he attempted to stop out of sights, and instead marched into view, where two figures stood, talking in quiet voices.

For a second, he wondered if he was dreaming; there was no way—

And yet they were. There was no mistaking the woman, decked in her ever present Jedi robes. Which meant that the man, strangely dressed in civilian clothing rather than armor, who was _holding her hand_ , was…

“Mot— Grand Master? Supreme Commander?”

They turned around at the same time, though he noticed Jace took a step back, his face inscrutable. But most of his attention was focused on _her_ and the brief flash of _something_ that crossed her face before it smoothed into its usual Jedi serenity. “Theron. What are you doing here?”

“Kryn brought me. Said there was something I needed to see.” He took a step forward instinctively, nearly forgetting that the woman still held his wrist. “What are you doing here?” he countered, though in spite of himself, his voice shook. “You just _disappeared_ during the fight against Zakuul, just up and left and nobody knew what happened! I wrote you—we all wrote you—and you didn't answer anyone!”

“Theron…” Her voice was soft, placating, but he shook his head to cut off whatever platitudes and Jedi bullshit she wanted to spout, hardly noticing when Kryn moved to the side, letting go of his arm.

“No, you can't just leave us and say my name like that and pretend like nothing happened.” He vaguely thought he saw Jace shift in the background but ignored it, crossing his arms across his chest in an effort to rein in his temper. “You abandoned us! You abandoned the Republic!” _You abandoned me!_ But he didn't say it, clamped his mouth shut before the words could escape his mouth unbidden.

For a brief moment, something resembling pain darted over her features, but he had to be imagining it. There was no way Grand Master Shan, former Jedi or not, would ever dare break from her famed Jedi stoicism. No, it had to be wishful thinking.

“Theron, please.” She somehow seemed to shrink as she took a step forward, brow furrowed. “I—I thought the Republic would be better off without my blunders, that it would be better for everyone.”

“Bantha shit.” He almost didn't recognize his own voice, as cold as it was. “You left us to fend for ourselves, against two forces that could destroy us even as Saresh tore the Republic apart from the inside. And for what? To assuage your guilt for people who died defending the Republic? What about the people left _living_? What about us?”

The way the woman seemed to wilt under his words, retreating in on herself instead of pushing back, only added to his ire, and he raised his chin, staring her square in the face. “So now what? Are you going to run away again, now that you've done whatever purpose you had on Odessen? Are you going to keep running away from the Order?” He advanced on her, blood pounding in his ears. “Didn't you decide to give up everything for the Jedi? Your life, your attachments? Your family?”

For a long moment, she said nothing, only looked at him with something that, for anyone else, he would call sadness in her eyes. He blinked when Jace stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder, and she turned, ever so briefly, to glance at him, before speaking again. “Theron…”

“No.” Even in the past few months, he had never heard Kryn’s voice as cold, as unforgiving, as it was when she stepped up, her face an icy mask. “I know that look. No more empty Jedi platitudes. Theron deserves better than that. He wants to know why you left _him_ , Jedi. Why you left _your son_.”

He stiffened, turned to face her. “I think I can handle this—” At the fierce look on her face—fierce on his behalf—he paused, softening his tone. “Kryn, thanks, but I can take care of this myself.”

She crossed her arms in a mirror of him. “All evidence seems to point to the contrary when it comes to you people.”

For the first time, the hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. “You may not be far off there but even so…”

“‘Kryn?’” They both turned when Master Satele’s voice cut through the air, her disbelief clearly audible. “You call her ‘Kryn,’ Theron?”

He froze, feeling the woman in question stiffen beside him. “Yes, actually, I do.”

Even from across the clearing, he could see Master Shan’s eyes flash. “Have you forgotten that Darth Nox is a Sith and a Dark Council member?”

In spite of himself, he snorted. “She is also the Outlander, as I'm sure you've heard. Besides, it's not like you didn't work with Darth Marr.”

“That's different. I, at least, was never on a first-name basis with him.” She sighed, her expression entreating. “I am concerned for you, Theron. Sith don't—”

“Do not even _think_ about finishing that sentence the way I know you will, Jedi.” Theron couldn't quite restrain his shiver at Kryn’s frigid tone, or the slight hint of static in the air as she took a few steps forward. “You think we Sith don't _love_ , right? That _caring_ is foreign to us? Never mind that love is a source of passion, as you are well aware, I'm sure. That's pretty rich coming from a Jedi, don't you think? What happened to no attachments or ‘there is no emotion,’ or whatever you Jedi love to spout—sorry, feel the need to explain.”

“That is hardly the point—”

“No?” He could see Kryn nearly shaking with anger and reached out a placating hand, but she neatly side-stepped it, hardly glancing in his direction. “Then what is? Theron is no Jedi, and I hardly see why your values should apply to him. You may be his mother—yes, he told me about that as well—but this is, what, the longest conversation you've ever had with him, and about a kiss nearly a decade gone?”

He could not help but turn to watch as Kryn stalked forward with all of the determination and intent of a nexu after her prey. “So you tell me, former _Jedi Grand Master Shan_ , what is more important to you? The dogma that you cling to so desperately, that teaches that the Sith are _dangerous_ , even when the Republic and Empire have all but fallen apart, when you've left the Jedi yourself? Or your son?”

Theron half-expected—braced himself—to hear a calm retort but when he didn't, he turned, only to stare. Satele looked… stunned, the infernal Jedi calm shattered and crumbling until he saw a glimpse of the pain, of _his mother_ , underneath.

After a second, Kryn cleared her throat, her irritation clear; he could practically picture her, arms crossed and toe tapping with impatience. “Well? You have to answer it eventually, Jedi. What's more important to you? To you, Satele, not Grand Master Shan.”

For a brief moment, the woman seemed to falter, eyes overbright, and he had to look away, couldn't bear to watch any longer. Instead, he turned to Kryn, forcing a small smile onto his face. “You don't have to do this, Kryn. I know what to expect. It's okay.”

“No.” She shook her head, though her attention was directed not at him, but Satele. “She is your _family_ and it's about damn time she acts like it, or at least has the decency to tell you to your face.”

Theron wasn't sure he had ever seen his mother look so _stricken_ before, actually taking a few steps back as Kryn advanced, jabbing at her with a finger.

"Yes, _family_. When I got frozen, my family was still here, still fighting. They all stood up to Zakuul. And then, when I woke up, they were all gone.” For a second, she paused, her lip trembling but she swatted his comforting hand away when he reached out. “I didn't even get to say goodbye. I'll never see them again. And you! You’re sitting here, less than an hour away from your son, just fucking… _hiding_.”

Satele visibly flinched but Kryn didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she paid it no heed. “If that's what the Jedi teach, this _cowardice_ , then I thank the Force I was never a Jedi. And I can understand why Semiri, your precious _Hero of Tython_ , left. Because that's ridiculous.” Her face twisted into a sneer as she cut the air with a gesture, filling the clearing with the faint acrid tang of ozone. “Maybe you need to learn what you have, appreciate what _hasn't_ been taken away from you.”

He was suddenly glad that, in the argument, nobody noticed when he blinked hard, clearing his vision, and, for a second, thought he might have seen Satele do the same.

And still, Kryn wasn't done. "But no, what you're apparently really concerned about is the fact that… what, he didn't kill me on sight? That he didn't hate me? That the alliance actually _worked_?” She shook her head, disgust fairly dripping from her words. “You think we can't tell the truth? You're focusing on this to not focus on the real issue: your family.” The knife-edged smirk that crossed her face was more dangerous than any of her previous scowls. “Your attachment.”

For a brief second, she paused, tilting her head as though considering the situation. “Decide what you're doing, Satele, but tell him to his face. Don't hide. Don't run off. If you choose to cling to your code over your family, he deserves to hear it from you. To his face. And if you can do that, well…" She shook her head, a look of what could almost have been pity on her face. "Well, then maybe Jedi compassion isn't all it's cracked up to be."

A long silence reigned and he had to look away, but even so, he could still see the quiet agony in his mother’s expression, the anger mixed with pity on Kryn’s face.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, but with an undeniable edge. "Now look, I've said everything I'm going to say—not everything I _want_ to say, not by a long shot and you can thank Theron for _that_ , by the way—now how about you figure out what you're going to do? It really is a simple thing, Satele: the family that's still here or the dogma of the order you've all but left."

As she whirled around, a look of panic must have crossed his expression; Kryn stopped, resting a hand on his arm, its gentleness at odds with her previous demeanor. “You know where to find me if you need to talk, yes?”

He nodded, not daring to trust his voice, and her hand tightened for a brief second before she pulled away, leaving him alone with the two people he found that he couldn't look at.

His parents.

“Theron.” Her voice was quiet, scarcely audible, but still he flinched, though whether it was from fear of what she would say or the brokenness of her tone, he couldn't say. “Theron, please, look at me. _Please_.”

There was nothing left of the confident Jedi Grand Master in the woman standing before him, a fact that was as agonizing as it was comforting. In the past few minutes, she seemed to have aged a decade, visible grief etched into lines that he hadn't seen moments earlier.

“Theron…” She paused, drew a shuddering breath, and he wasn't entirely surprised to see Jace step forward and rest his hands on her shoulders. “I'm so sorry. I know I've been a terrible mother to you. I told myself that I was doing what was best for everyone, for the Republic and for you both but…” She shook her head, looking smaller, more fragile, than ever before as she moved towards him. “I was wrong. I should never have— I should—”

The first tear that escaped her control, glistening in the late afternoon light, felt like a punch to the gut and he couldn't help but close the distance between them, stepping forward into her outstretched arms, his own vision blurring.

“Mom?” In spite of himself, his voice cracked as her arms tightened around him, warm and comforting and, for a moment, he could close his eyes and forget that he had long since outgrown her, pretend that he was still a child, receiving the affection that he had always longed for. That he had the mother he had always missed.

“Theron.” Her voice shook, but even so, he was certain she had never sounded so warm, so maternal, as she did then, pulling back to look up at him with wet eyes. “I know that you may not believe it, but I have always loved you, from the moment I first saw you. And I am proud, so proud, to see the man you've become, for the Alliance and yourself.”

“Mom…” It was all he could manage, but, judging from the joy in her expression as she hugged him again, it was more than enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryn comes back and is done with absolutely everybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 with more fluff because I will love this entire family to pieces. A part 3 may be incoming. With even more ridiculousness.
> 
> Disclaimer: It’s been a while since I played KotFE. I don’t actually remember what Aric and Kaliyo were supposed to be doing with the whole Spire thing so I kind of fudged my way through it.

“You all had better still be here having a family moment.”

Theron wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed before Kryn’s voice rang out over the clearing once more, sharp and pointed, and yet somehow still happier than he had heard it in a long time. Even so, he pulled away instinctively; years of working for the SIS and before that, his failed attempt at Jedi training, had taught him, perhaps too well, of the dangers that came from displaying emotion, of the weaknesses associated with attachments.

Before he could completely withdraw, she pulled into view, and he could fairly feel the glare she directed at his back. “You, don't be an idiot! Keep hugging your mother!” He obediently shifted back, though he caught Satele’s questioning look and responded with a shrug of his own. There was no arguing with Kryn when she was in one of her moods.

“And you!” Theron twisted his head, wondering who was about to end up on the wrong side of her ire this time, and couldn't quite suppress a smile when Jace Malcom, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military, took a step back from the woman who didn’t even reach his shoulder in height as she advanced on him. “Go hug your family!” She shook her head, though Theron thought he could spot the hint of a smile on her face. “It’s like you Pubs don’t understand the concept of showing affection or something.”

The air shimmered beside her before resolving into the ever recognizable form of Darth Marr, arms crossed over his chest, and it was only meticulous training that kept him from reacting. “Does this fact surprise you, Nox?”

She scowled, though, for the first time in a long while, the expression looked more playful than serious. “No, but I had at least been hoping that they’d only be inadequate and not a complete disaster. Honestly, Malcom, you look more terrified of your own family than you do when facing the Empire.”

Theron had the strangest impression that Marr was smirking under the incorporeal mask, though he must have been imagining things.

“Why are you here?” he called over his shoulder, ignoring Jace’s spluttering.

“To make sure everything worked out.” Her voice was bland, as though it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “You guys stay here as long as you need to, understood? And I expect you'll be needing an extra room so I'll make arrangements. Theron, I don't want to see you again until tonight at earliest.”

He scowled automatically. “You interrupted me in the middle of planning the Spire’s infiltration.”

“Which you can work on _later_.” Every inch of Kryn’s expression matched his as she crossed her arms. “You are a _family_. For once in your lives, act like one.”

She whipped around before he could retort and he was left scowling at her retreating back.

“Wait, Outlander.” He blinked in surprise as his mother pulled back to face her, her expression softer, happier, than he had ever seen it. “Thank you.”

Whatever Kryn was expecting, it couldn't have been that; for a second, unadulterated shock flitted across her features before she smoothed it away. “I… Well… I mean… It’s just… Obviously someone had to say it. So…” She cleared her throat. “You're welcome.” A pause as she glared at Jace—his _father_ —once more. “And you, seriously, just go hug your family.”

He had to have been imagining the amusement in Darth Marr’s voice as they walked away. “Since when have you been such a romantic?”

“Shut up.”

He smirked as their bickering faded out in the distance before turning back to his parents. Jace watched them with no small amount of trepidation in his eyes while a hint of a faint smile danced on his mother’s lips. “You may want to listen to the Outlander, Jace. She can be quite… tenacious and I have no doubt that she would send Marr back with choice words of disapproval if she so much as suspects you of ignoring her directive.”

Theron snorted, though he couldn't help but smile as Jace joined the embrace briefly before pulling back, an oddly embarrassed expression on his face, even as he cast his eyes about, as if looking for a sign. “So…”

The memory of a particularly awkward moment from their dinner years past resurfaced with a vengeance and Theron cut him off before Jace could ask about something equally mortifying as prying about his—currently nonexistent—love life. “You never did say what you were doing here. Either of you. Com— Dad, I thought you were staying with the Republic?”

Jace shook his head with a rueful smile, though, thankfully, he ignored the slip. “I thought I would, but the Republic military is no longer under my control. Saresh may not be Supreme Chancellor in name but her puppet obeys her every command, and has helped her wrestle control of the military forces.”

Theron nodded. “The current commander of Havoc Squad, Major Jorgan? He implied as much.”

A pleased look stole across Jace’s features. “He's here, then? I had hoped, when they deserted, that they might find another, worthier cause.”

“He also mentioned something about an attempted coup?”

Jace visibly flinched and Theron wasn't entirely surprised to see his mother shift closer, concern clear in her gaze as she rested a hand on his arm. “Yes, that. An ill-fated attempt to win back control, but you have to understand that by then, the troops were desperate, willing to try anything. The Republic is no longer the place it used to be, hardly resembles even the place you remember when you left, Theron.”

There was pain in his father’s expression, a glimpse of what looked more like personal betrayal by the Republic, by the home he loved. He nodded, though that still didn't explain… “But how did you find Odessen? And why?”

“Without the Jedi, without your mother, there was nothing I could do, so I set out to look for her.” There was a pause, during which time his parents exchanged a look so full of affection that he couldn't help but feel that he was spying on something private, and cleared his throat. Jace offered him a somewhat sheepish smile in return. “Anyway, I finally followed her trail to here, just in time to meet the delightful woman you call the Outlander.”

There was a forced lightness to his tone but Theron took it, recognizing it as an attempt to change the subject. “Her official title is Commander, actually.”

A noticeable interest lit up Jace’s eyes. “Commander, huh? And you mentioned something about planning an infiltration?”

Theron straightened automatically. “That's right. We obtained some information about the GEMINI frequency from the droid SCORPIO so we're looking to infiltrate the Spire and deal with the GEMINI droids at the source.”

“And rid Zakuul of one of its great sources of military power.” Jace shifted, a thoughtful expression on his face. “What else have you been doing? I imagine your Commander is preparing some sort of war?”

“To a certain extent. So far, we've more been running a guerrilla war. Hitting them where it hurts, gathering information and allies, that sort of thing. We have been looking into dealing with those Star Fortresses, except they're scattered about and it's a pretty long trip across the galaxy back to the Core Worlds.”

“It might be more effective to hit them all in one run, if you have the manpower. Hang on, I think I have a pocket map…”

By the time Kryn returned to look for them, they had settled on the logs, debating the best way to bring the battle to Arcann, and the sun had long since set. When she realized that they had been distracted by _war planning_ , her face was certainly something to behold, especially when the ghost of Darth Marr drifted over and chose to join the discussion himself.

“I think they’ll be needing that extra room in the barracks,” he murmured to Kryn under the sounds of heated debate.

For another moment, she favored him with a scowl, then smiled, a rather smug look, as she glanced towards Jace, gesticulating with one hand while the other remained firmly around Satele’s waist. “I thought so.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empire vs. Republic shenanigans in the Alliance HQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to uploading this after sitting on it for forever! This is the last "chapter" I have planned, though it's certainly been a fun thing to write while it's lasted.

Theron wasn’t sure he had ever seen Bey’wan Aygo look as out of sorts as he did when he and Kryn led the small group into the main room of the Alliance. The man’s eyes flickered from Satele, looking as poised as ever, even in the old robes and worn appearance, to Jace, his former commander, dressed in civilian clothing for what must have appeared to be the first time in forever, to the Force Ghost of Darth Marr, his long-time adversary, and Theron has the sneaking suspicion that Aygo wasn't sure who exactly he should address first, nor how, given the current state of the galaxy.

Luckily, Jace seemed to recognize the situation and stepped forward with a handshake and a smile before changing the topic to the plans for attacking the Star Fortresses.

It was inevitable, Theron suspected, for the place to erupt into heated debate only a few minutes later, especially considering the philosophical differences and history between everyone involved. A sudden wave of sympathy for Lana’s constant patience washed over him; he couldn't imagine having to put up with something on this scale for several days, let alone for months.

“A gentler hand would be more conducive to winning the trust of the Zakuulian people and the Core Worlds,” Satele interjected over Marr and Jace’s earnest plotting, a frown tugging at her features.

In a strange show of inter-faction unity and in what was probably the first time in recent history, both Jace and Darth Marr turned to stare at her with matching disbelief. She crossed her arms across her chest, looking from one to the other. “Yes?”

“You know, Shan,” Marr drawled with considerably less tact than Theron remembered from when he was still alive, “this is why you _lost_ , right?”

Unsurprisingly, both his parents bristled immediately. “False offerings of peace are hardly acceptable war tactics, Marr,” she retorted.

“I don't mean that, though I have to admit that I am honestly impressed you fell for that.” He waved a hand airily. “But how else do you think you lost Phaeda?”

Jace’s expression turned thoughtful, though Satele’s didn't change from outraged. “I remember you being more circumspect, Darth Marr.”

“And I remember being alive. A pity neither of them lasted.”

In the resulting lull, Theron edged closer to Kryn. “Are you _sure_ this was a good idea?”

She grinned at him. “It'll be good for them all. Besides, your father seems to be in agreement.”

“I noticed. And my mother seems… displeased with everybody involved.”

“I noticed. And that is a severe understatement.”

“I am aware.”

“Satele…” They both turned back to the discussion at hand as Jace spoke, his expression coaxing, placating. “I know you want to minimize the damage but—”

She shook her head, face taking a stubborn set. “I refuse to condone the slaughter of multitudes of innocents on the Star Fortresses, which is what you are suggesting.”

“There is no plausible way the Alliance could make any show of strength without completely destroying the Star Fortresses, which are not only spying on our worlds but also aiding in mining our resources.” Theron didn't need to see behind Darth Marr’s ghostly mask to know that the Sith was scowling at the insult to the Empire. “Furthermore, it is highly unlikely any individuals on the fortresses are entirely innocent of any wrongdoing. However, if you have any suggestions on how such a show of weakness would convince Zakuul of our resolve, feel free to enlighten us, but I would remind you that our final goal is _victory_ , not _hugs_.”

Kryn smirked from beside him and Theron had a sudden sense of foreboding. “Come on, Marr,” she chirped, looking far too excited about the entire situation for his comfort. “You've seen them. It's not like she's good at hugs either.”

For a moment, only stunned silence followed, broken by the low rumbling sound of… Was that _laughter_? He stared for another minute, discarding other, more plausible, scenarios before arriving to the conclusion that, yes, Darth Marr, the widely respected and feared de facto leader of the Sith Empire until his demise at the hands of Zakuul, who was often believed to have not a thought for anything other than business and no sense of humor whatsoever, was indeed _laughing_. Either he had gone completely crazy or death had changed the Sith.

Or, considering the way Kryn skipped forward and blithely slapped him a high five, there was a _wildly_ different side to Marr that nobody in the galaxy except maybe for the woman who had been standing beside him had ever seen.

Stars, it was going to be a long meeting.

* * *

When Theron returned from his brief foray into Zakuul, it was to find a mostly empty base, strange for the middle of the afternoon.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't to find a small group of people in the oddly silent cantina, watching Kryn get decimated by the ghostly form of Darth Marr in Dunubrian chess. Most of her ships had already be captured, leaving her with only a handful of fighters and the flagship left, already in danger of being surrounded by the entirety of Marr’s fleet. Even as he watched, she shifted a fighter and he winced as it was instantly destroyed by one of Marr’s dreadnaughts. “Don’t overextend,” he chided, his voice surprisingly patient.

Even so, she scowled. “If I don't, there's not even a chance to defeat you.”

Theron wisely kept his mouth shut about the astronomical odds already against her on mounting any sort of feasible defense, let alone a successful offense and, judging from his raised eyebrows, Jace was thinking the same thing.

Kryn, glaring at the board, must have arrived at the same conclusion; she reached out and swept her flagship off. “Very well. I forfeit. I don't see why that was necessary in the first place. We both know you're much better than I am.”

“You lasted longer than you usually do.”

“That’s not saying much,” she griped with a small pout. “But what was the point of that again?”

Marr paused for a moment, just long enough for Theron to suspect that Kryn would be… displeased by his answer. “I found myself wishing to brush up on war strategies and hoped I would rekindle some interest in the game.”

A look of mock indignation crossed her face. “You were bored and _used_ me to find a better partner?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He said nothing else but after another few seconds, she appeared mollified.

To nobody’s great surprise, Jace stepped forward, surveying the board with a critical eye. “A friendly match, Marr?”

Theron was willing to swear that Marr’s eye was glinting under his mask. “Imperial strategy versus Republic strategy, Malcom?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, if that's all, then I'll just—”

Kryn wasn't quite fast enough to prevent Marr from grabbing her. “Stay. You need to help move the pieces.”

Even though she wore her eye covering, Theron could see the pointed look she directed towards his hand. “You grabbed my arm.”

“I did. And I've used all of my energy so you'll have to move them.”

“You must be joking. I hate this game.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring imperiously down her nose at them all, an oddly comical sight given her height.

The noise Marr made sounded for all the world like a snort, not that he would ever accuse the man of making such an undignified sound. “You can keep scowling as though you don't like spending time with me but we both know it's a lie.”

“Ugh, fiiiiiiiiiiine.” She fairly threw herself into the seat, still scowling all the while, but Theron couldn't help but notice that it seemed more put on than anything. “Ready? The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Jace settled across from her, but frowned slightly before making a show of scanning the growing crowd. “If you get the Outlander’s assistance, then I request Satele’s.”

This time, there was no doubting that Darth Marr _snorted_. “I assure you, Malcom, that she is most certainly not assisting me in _strategy_ , but very well.” At Marr’s nod of acquiescence, Satele settled herself at Jace’s shoulder, watching the game with sharp eyes.

Behind him, Theron thought he heard the sounds of bets being placed and rolled his eyes. Then again, there hadn’t exactly been much positive excitement as of late. The Alliance certainly deserved some lighthearted fun and the friendly chess match between the former leaders of the Empire and the Republic would undoubtedly qualify.

The first few moves were made in silence, each side hedging the other while the audience watched with bated breaths. Theron did notice that Kryn asked for no clarification, always moving each piece with confidence that couldn't have been born from her ability to actually play the game well.

Judging from the curious looks, Jace was wondering the same thing, and finally took advantage of a longer, contemplative silence to lean forward. “Hang on, you said she's not helping you with strategy.”

“I should hope not,” was the calm retort as Marr pointedly ignored Kryn’s indignant pout.

“That's what I thought. But how in the blazes does she know what pieces you want moved?”

If ghosts had breath, Marr would probably have sighed. As it was, Satele heaved one for him, her voice overly patient. “Force bond, Jace.”

“Oh, right. The Force. Wait a moment, but how do _you_ know?”

She shook her head, amusement flitting across her features. “We _did_ spend five years in exile together. Even if I had not seen it, I could have guessed as much simply from the way he would always talk about her.”

As Kryn turned to the Sith in question with a delighted expression, Theron blinked, his mother’s words slowly filtering into his consciousness, and he was speaking before his mind could catch up to his mouth. “Wait. You and Darth Scary McHugeSith?”

She twisted to direct him A Look. “Yes. And?”

He swallowed, his brain short-circuiting before kicking into overdrive. “And nothing. Just. You know.” He waved his arm at them. “I'm just surprised that he didn't throw you off the Citadel at some point.”

“Quite a common observation, that.” She glanced at his father, who had clearly completely forgotten about their match in favor of the gossip. “Is there a problem, Malcom?”

“A Force bond like…?” He gestured to them vaguely. At Marr’s brief nod, he paused, a speculative expression on his face. “…I have questions.”

“No,” Satele interrupted loudly. “No, you do not.”

“You know she doesn't _have_ to answer them, Satele.”

“Yes, and I also know that she _will_. In far more detail than you will have ever asked for or actually wanted to know.”

“In absolutely unacceptable detail,” Marr intoned, disapproval clear despite in the evenness of his tone.

Kryn shrugged, a grin bubbling on her lips. “Yes, it must be _awful_ listening to someone brag about your prowess.”

To Theron’s complete and utter surprise, Darth Marr reconsidered. “Well, if you put it that way…”

“No.” Satele turned a furious look to Jace. “See what you started? Besides, isn't it your turn? Play your damn game.”

“Fine, fine.” Jace turned his gaze back to the board, though Theron could have sworn that he heard a quietly muttered “spoilsport.”

Judging from the way her lips compressed into a thin line, she heard it too.

A few more moves were made in silence, then Kryn leaned forward again, a smirk on her face. “So… Marr talked about me?”

“Far more than was necessary.” Other than a brief twist, Satele’s face remained neutral, giving nothing away, but even so, Kryn’s smile widened with satisfaction.

“It couldn't have been that bad…”

She turned to Jace. “Certainly not, but nonetheless, it was undeniably extraneous much of the time.”

Jace actually laughed, shaking his head as he reached out to move a fighter. “He's already a ghost, Satele. Give the man a break. He just sounds like a man in love.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to her with a soft look on his face, gentle enough that Theron had to look away. “I mean, from what it sounds like, he talks about her like I talk about you.”

Theron wondered briefly whether Jace was fully aware that his observation would likely embarrass two of the most prominent Force-users of their time, or whether he simply did not care. Judging from his studiously blithe expression, it was more of the latter.

Kryn, at least, seemed absolutely delighted, her face fairly lighting up as she looked from one to the other before turning to Marr. “That was so sweet? I didn't know it was _possible_ for Pubs to be so sweet? Isn't that against some regulations or something?”

“The Jedi Code, maybe,” Marr supplied and she smirked.

“True enough.”

Theron wasn't sure he had ever seen his mother look so discomfited in her life as she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the pair of them. “Are you quite finished?”

“Wait!” Kryn flung her arms out, nearly knocking one of Marr’s pieces off the board. He made a noise of protest but she ignored it, only grinning and leaning closer. “Is Satele Shan _blushing_?”

It seemed as though every pair of eyes in the room, which had slowly filled as the game continued, no doubt drawn by the prospect of the battle of wits and an opportunity to see the Republic and Empire’s top leaders in a more casual light, turned to her. She bestowed upon them all a severe look that appeared to even make the Sith backtrack before turning back to the board. “I believe it was your turn, Marr. Or are you forfeiting?”

“Not at all,” he retorted smoothly. “Simply enjoying the spectacle.”

Theron hadn't been aware that it was possible for Satele’s expression to sour more but she managed it effortlessly. “Just go.”

Marr inclined his head, the simple acknowledgement much more sardonic than Theron had ever seen from the man, ghost or not, and Kryn reached out, shifting the dreadnaught over a square.

As silence fell once more, Theron wondered whether it would be more worthwhile for him to bow out, returning to the reports that he was sure had built up in his absence.

Then again, it had to be worth it to witness the match continue for another two hours, during which time apparently both Kryn and Jace were distracted by Satele’s presence, judging by the mistakes that were made from both sides, and the groans sounded from the crowd as Marr won by the slightest margin.

He _did_ , however, deem it time to leave when Kryn winked at him and started calling for a conciliatory kiss, a chant taken up by the rest of the crowd with far too much enthusiasm.

Though, he had to admit, that not even the large pile of reports waiting for him was enough to ruin his inexplicable good mood.


End file.
